It Gets Cold Out Here
by So Electric
Summary: Narcissa remembers the fallen and examines her life and the tiny joys and tragedies that come with every day.


            She'd wanted to go to the funeral.  She really had.  She told herself this as she fumbled blindly in the bathroom, searching for something…anything to relieve the pain she felt right this very second.  Narcissa undid her hair from its signature ponytail, low and tight, severe and cold, just like her.  

She stood in the mirror, her hair…it had once been a beautiful blonde, "like silver" Sirius once had told her.  She remembered the night, she was supposed to be baby-sitting him and she'd invited Lucius over…  Sirius was not so young, in his first year of Hogwarts.  And he'd said, as she'd walked up the stairs with he young boyfriend, "He is a prick.  You can do better, after all, you've got hair like silver."  She'd told Lucius to go home then, that her cousin was much too young to be exposed to this and she'd stared at him for a while.  Sirius was always a beautiful boy, large clear eyes, dark hair always falling in his face, and he'd never been as innocent as that night.

Narcissa touched her hair again.  Not as pretty as that night.  Now it was harsh, a fake blonde, alarmingly light and coarse.  She stared in the mirror for a couple of seconds before turning off the light and retreating to her bedroom.  She groped in the closet for what she wanted.  It took her awhile but eventually, it ended up on her lap.  It was a silver blanket, made purely out of unicorn hair, embroidered with every name in the family.  Well…it once had had every name in the family, but now it was just the few that had passed on.  Virginia Weasley…Narcissa remembered her bright haired second cousin, Arthur's sister.  She'd died at the hands of Bellatrix, once a long time ago.  And Peter Goyle, a smart and bulky young man, her cousin once removed by marriage, he fought for what he believed in.  And he'd died…  Narcissa took her wand from her drawer, twelve inches, oak with unicorn hair and fairy wing.  Tears blurred her vision as she added the name with horrible comprehension.  Sirius Black.  He was gone now.  Just like the rest of them, the ones who weren't cowards, the ones who died for the cause.  Sirius always was her favorite cousin.  They went fishing sometimes.  Sirius and James did it sometimes and Narcissa felt honored to be able to fish with Sirius.  James was a nice boy but unfortunately not a pureblood.  On lazy summer afternoons, in the family home in the south of France.  They'd take their rods and fish into drowsy, secure silence.  This was before Voldemort, before Death Eaters, and the Dark Mark.  These were the days of quiet silence, the days of dreamy abstraction, when everything was simple.

Unfortunately, she thought sadly.  Draco would not have a simple childhood.  He would live a life of closed doors and muffled screams, of death, of destruction.  He was already becoming different, evil, sad…  It was sometimes hard to imagine that this was her baby, her beautiful baby.  He was such a beautiful baby; plump and pale with silver wisps of hair like smoke and eyes like turquoise.  Bellatrix had loved Draco, she'd held him and kissed him and dressed him.  Bellatrix, her sister.  Amazing, wasn't it?  How people could change so fast.

Narcissa remembered long nights in their bedroom.  "'Cissa," Bellatrix had said one night, voice slurred by sleep.  "I will never be like them."  Narcissa had turned, resting her chin on her shoulder.  "Like who?"  Bellatrix had turned also, so they were facing.  Bellatrix was always the beautiful one, large dark eyes and thick dark hair.  "Like our father…like our uncles."

"They hurt people, you know.  They hurt them…"  Then Bella had fallen asleep, snoring lightly into the night.

And in that time, seventeen years, Bellatrix had fallen.  The night after she escaped from jail, she'd had dinner with Lucius and Narcissa.  The whole time, she'd been raving about him.  About Voldemort.  He had her utmost devotion…but he hurt people.

But, Narcissa thought disgustedly.  I am not much better.  She too had pledged her devotion to the Dark Lord.  She had once believed that devotion stuff.  That he was going to save them all from the dirty half-breeds.  He would bring change, he would bring evil and mayhem and they would be sorry.  Those awful, disgusting people would be sorry.  Sorry for hurting their ancestors, for burning them.  For making war.  For making them fear and hurt.  Muggles…they were the cause of all this.

It's a circle, you know, Narcissa thought drowsily as she drifted into sleep.  We live and we die.  It's how we choose to live and die that matters.

"What are you doing?  Get this disgusting cover up!  Sleeping so early?"  Lucius Malfoy stormed into the bedroom, waking her up from peaceful slumber.  He could never stand to see her happy.  Narcissa shivered, curling up into a ball and backing into her headboard.  He would hit her soon.  "It-it gets cold out here."  She closed her eyes briefly as his hand connected with her face, slapping her blue and purple.  He left when he was done and Narcissa shivered as she thought, "I remember.  I always will."  With that, she closed her eyes and dreamed of happier times.


End file.
